Ok, yeah, I may say I live in the mountains but really Grass Valley is just the foothills. I plead innocent though, 23 years in Minnesota has skewed my perception just a little.
This weekend my great good friend took me up to his beloved mountains. He dazzled me with lakes and rivers, foamy waterfalls and peaks still covered in snow.
He drove me through sleepy towns where we discovered beautiful old barns and searched out houses old and new and dreamed of places to live.
We found wildflowers everywhere, lupine is one I knew and this little beauty.
Then he scared the living daylights out of me (not hard to do) with nasty, narrow, stinking, crumbling little roads overlooking endless drops.
Here I pleaded mercy and we didn't climb any higher. It got worse later, a simple mountain road which he drove skillfully and well while I sat in a miserable little huddle and tried not to cry. But all in all it was glorious, good company and great to get away and enjoy some new scenery. I'm looking forward to going again, mostly, thanks D!
Heights are not my thing. I've never been to the Grand Canyon, the mere thought of standing on the edge gives me the willies. I don't even like ladders, though I have managed to conquer them up to about 12 feet, reluctantly. Flying I've come to terms with (barely) because traveling is one of my great loves. Enclosed spaces are pretty bad too. Beets and sauerkraut are nasty.
Things I'm good at: Animals, tackling life on a daily basis, loving my friends and family, torching metal, planning large events, learning new things, meeting new people, shooting holes in targets and cooking a lot of great things.
Peace
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